The After
I remember it all too well
Crawling across the cold floor
Of my four-hundred-and-fifty square foot apartment
Trying to find a patch of warmth, of light
I had been sick a little over a month
Bloodwork was fine
CT scan was fine
EKG was fine
Yet it felt like every organ in my body
Was suffocating
I sat, alone, staring at the wall
Trying to summon the strength
To eat a raspberry, an egg
My body like cement
Too weak to stand in the shower
Long enough to wash my hair
Later that day, reading Emily Dickinson
In a slice of late-afternoon light,
Leaves tumbling in the early November wind,
I felt myself become one with the sky,
The distant clouds, the coming rain
Is it possible to have a near-death experience
Without being in acute danger of dying?
It suddenly became clear to me then
That perhaps when we go, we simply
Seep into fragments of earth, weightless as air
No pain, no feeling, no thinking
Just being
It made me less afraid of the after
And more aware of the beauty, the immediacy
Of mortality
Now, every day my body
Is ripe with strength,
I chase the sun, the water, the horizon—
All the things sick days rob us of
And in my room, I light a candle
To remind myself there are good days
Yet to come
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This is beautiful Jenna! And deeply relatable for all of us who have any chronic illness. The line about having a near death experience, no thinking, pain or feeling, but still being here hit me in the gut. It’s a tough old gig having a chronic illness.
Yes, this. You say so much in so few words. Lovely.
Chronic illness here for the past four years. Having to live flat on my back for 99% of the day means that I take beauty and joy wherever I can find it.